Andrena Ingram

By Andrena Ingram
as told to Edrena Smith

"No single religious image is more common, obvious and yet multivalent than the image of food." -- Gail Ramshaw, Treasures Old and New, Images in the Lectionary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 182.

While language and cultures may be different around the world, one thing constant and familiar to all is food. Throughout my stay in Namibia and South Africa, I had been fed - with the food that nourished my body and with the food that nourished my spirit. A few times I was fed food that I didn't particularly care for, but if I wanted to eat, I had to eat it. There were also a few experiences that I didn't care for. My vanity came into play a couple of times and I had to take a look at myself, where I had come from, and more importantly, what I represent. Sometimes, if I want to grow, I have to learn to move myself out of the way.

I was blessed with the opportunity to fulfill my globalization requirement by visiting Africa from May 30-June 19, 2004, and equally blessed to take my son, Brezlon. I speak generously for Brezlon, because initially (as far as Brezlon was concerned), it was just another instance of my exerting my parental right of "dragging him along" on my adventure. Who could blame him?

Prior to visiting Africa, I had all but forgotten about Brezlon's memory of a woman my family hosted in our home many years ago. Erica was a lay leader from our sister church in Tanzania. During the week she lived with us, Erica colored our lives with her stories of a life of struggle, toil and hunger in her village. After dinner one night, I began cleaning up, and started to throw away the left over white rice from our meal. Erica became very agitated and reminded us about the people in Africa who were starving. It was something that I had often heard at my own dinner table as a child. My mother would frequently comment when we wasted food or when we didn't want to eat what was put before us. As children we would then mumble under our breaths when mom turned her back, "Why doesn't she send them some food?" As children, we didn't have a clue.

Brezlon and I did not have particularly wonderful visions of Africa, with the exceptions of television images of the Wildlife Kingdom and the Discovery Channel. We were quite familiar with the infomercials that portray Africa as a dire place of abject poverty. Many years later, a trip to Africa became a reality. I finally saw the motherland and what life is really like in Africa firsthand. Much older, much wiser and with a little pastoral care under my belt, I thought I was ready to see what God is doing in Africa and how I may be a blessing to those less fortunate than myself. Nothing prepared me for the blessings that Africa had in store for me.

Judy, left, and Keitumetse, right, holding her son Dimakatso, after the support group meeting in Africa.

Food was a prevalent image for me in Africa. Our first day in Namibia, we had a tour of our host home and an orientation. Sometime during the day, there was an unmistakable aroma of "something" cooking in the house. Our itinerary read that we were to have a "cultural dinner." Whatever was cooking didn't smell too appetizing, and I was very apprehensive about what we were going to eat. Our cultural dinner that first night in Namibia consisted of millet, a type of grain with the consistence of grits, curried animal organs (and when I say "organs," I mean all the organs), and sandy greens. Sara, one of our cooks, taught us how to eat food with our hands, roll the food around on our tongues, and swallow without chewing (the sandy texture of that meal does not allow for chewing).

Every meal, beginning with breakfast, was a feast. Not only did we feast upon food, but also we were visually and mentally fed with the realization that not all Africans live in poverty. How could Brezlon and I forget pulling up in front of a white ranch-style house surrounded by white sand? We feasted on each other's stories, and misconceptions were cleared up. Our hosts were particularly impressed with Brezlon. The images they have of young black boys in America are primarily rap and gang oriented.

On Sunday morning, driving in the taxicab to church, we couldn't believe the number of people walking in the white Namibian sand to the African Lutheran Church. Brezlon and I were fed by the impressive presence of God's people, filling the pews to the brim. Almost one-half were children. Even though I didn't understand their language, and amidst the curious stares, I understood that we were worshipping the same God. I was "fed" as I watched these people line up and one by one come before God and drop their offerings in the baskets placed upon the altar. Paul, a dear friend of our host, served as our translator for the duration of the service. We were fed the word of God and the body and blood of Christ, along with my Christian brothers and sisters who live a continent away, but abide in the same kingdom.

Paul's cousin, Dina, who is in the last stages of AIDS, is not able to take any food. Paul and I walked to the neighboring Lutheran hospital to visit her after church. She is in a fetal position, and the nursing staff can only make her as comfortable as possible. I see that her eyes are open and she makes little sounds as Paul speaks to her. I bend down and whisper my greeting in Dina's ear and she squeezes my hand. "Dina loves it when you sing to her," Paul says. And so we sing, to Dina, and the six other patients in the room, whom I notice are also wasting away. Tears well up in the corners of Dina's eyes as she squeezes my hand. Paul asks me to pray. No, Dina cannot eat, but we are "fed" together in that hospital room with the songs and prayers of God's promise of everlasting life.

We arrived in Johannesburg during the second week of our travels. We stayed at the Lutheran Centre in Soweto. Our contact and hostess, Nomsa, is the embodiment of sunshine and her smile lights up everyone around her. Nomsa, I later found out, was also an HIV counselor and support organizer, and shared with me that a support group was being held there later in the morning. Instead of going out that day with the rest of the group, I chose to remain behind. It was quite awkward entering into that room, a circle of strangers: men, women and children, old and young.

Even though I greeted them in the name of God, and brought them greetings from their sisters and brothers in the United States who were also living with HIV and AIDS, I hadn't anticipated feeling so out of place. I was met with curious looks, suspicious stares, and blank faces. I was in their space. I belonged and yet I didn't belong.

Andrena, left, and Thabisile, right, holding her son, after the support group meeting in Africa.

As the afternoon progressed, I finally did find a niche with a group of three women: Judy, Keitumetse, and Thabisile. One of the women simply stated to me, "This is God's curse upon us." Before I could respond, another woman pointedly asked me a question about my lifestyle before Christ: How did "you" get it? I answered honestly, and all three of them broke into laughter and said, "Yes, we know that life!" We talked the rest of the afternoon; we shared the same stories, the same worries, the same fears, and the same hopes. I was fed, not with food, but fed with God's spirit in that place, with those women, with my sisters. Together we learned that although ocean waters separated us in distance, we were joined together in the same baptismal waters of the same God.

Brezlon went to Africa because he didn't have a choice. Initially it was a hard adjustment for him, but by week two, the experience became meaningful for him. I overheard him tell someone, "I am glad my mom forced me to come." The children and the conditions that they lived in touched him. We visited a place called the "Beautiful Gate." The Beautiful Gate AIDS Care Center in Crossroads, Cape Town, is a community-based center for children infected with and affected by HIV/AIDS. The center was established in 1999 and offers physical, medical, emotional and spiritual care to children in need, children that are orphaned by HIV/AIDS, abandoned children and street children within the boundaries of their own communities. Brezlon still talks about how the children are taught that there is a playground in heaven with balloons and birthday cakes, so that dying and losing friends is not as frightening. They know that after death, there is a beautiful place. And what can be more beautiful to little children than a playground with swings, balloons and birthday cakes?

Andrena: "If one member of the body is hurting, if one member of the body is sick, if one member of the body is oppressed, the whole body is affected."

During the benefit, I took time out to give a PowerPoint presentation outlining some of the important issues that surround the HIV/AIDS epidemic in South Africa. In South Africa, there are some significant contributing factors: There is significant social and family disruption due to apartheid and migration. There is a high poverty level and a low education level. The status of women in society is low. There is a major denial of homosexuality and a huge cultural resistance to condom use. Within the next ten years, South Africa is going to lose the equivalent of an entire generation between the ages of 13 and 35 to AIDS-related deaths. The public school system is severely overcrowded and jobs are scarce. The pay in most cases averages $200-700 US dollars a month.

The benefit included a liturgical dance by Andrena's daughter, Beverle.

Currently, HIV/AIDS affects more than one in five adults in South Africa. Some 5.3 million people, more than the number of members of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, are living with HIV/AIDS in South Africa. Many are not able to get medication until they have full-blown AIDS. This year there will be over a million children under 15 years old orphaned by AIDS. Nelson Mandela said it best: "Let us give publicity to HIV/AIDS and not hide it, because the only way to make it appear like a normal illness like tuberculosis, like cancer, is to come out and to say somebody has died because of HIV/AIDS. And people will stop regarding it as something extraordinary."

If you are wondering what you can do, there are a few things: Understand that part of the solution starts with you. Practice safe sex. Know your status and get tested. Being tested and knowing your HIV status protects you and others against HIV/AIDS. Inform yourself, share information and talk about HIV/AIDS with your family, friends and neighbors. This helps fight the stigma and discrimination associated with HIV/AIDS. Give your support to somebody with HIV/AIDS by volunteering your time. If not yourself, encourage your church or community to have a fundraising event. I did. I was blessed I could accomplish this benefit all in consultation with the Spirit.

I went to Africa to see what God is doing. I went to Africa to be a blessing to those less fortunate than myself. Instead, I went to Africa and, I was blessed. I traveled across the ocean, to the continent where all humanity began; I lived for a short time among people who have survived the atrocities of apartheid, a political system that was designed to separate people into different classes, a political system of oppression and dehumanization. I lived for a short time among these people and have heard nothing of retribution, nothing of anger, nothing of getting even. I have heard nothing but the message of forgiveness, and reconciliation.

The items for the silent auction sit on a table, waiting for bidding. Some of the items were a vase with roses, books about healing and AIDS, a framed picture of Matthew 25, Philadelphia Eagles Paraphernalia (the benefit was Super Bowl Weekend, after all) a cup and saucer, and a healing stole.

Is there poverty in Africa? Hunger? Struggling? Yes, yes, yes! And yet the Holy Spirit is quite evident. I witnessed the true meaning of hospitality from people that really had nothing to give, but gave all they had. In my presentation, I spoke about the body of Christ having AIDS. If one member of the body is hurting, if one member of the body is sick, if one member of the body is oppressed, the whole body is affected.

I pray that one-day there will be no more hunger, no more disease, no more violence. I pray this not only for Africa, but also for the world. I pray that we may all learn forgiveness and reconciliation, and begin to apply it in our daily lives. I pray that we may go forth into the world and feed Christ's sheep, not only in word, bath and table. If one member of the body is hungry, we all hunger. The world cannot hunger for the bread of life if the world hungers for a piece of bread. We must continue to feed the people in our communities, not only in body, but by sharing what little we have with those who have none - the hungry ones, the sick ones and the afflicted ones - just as we were being fed in Africa. I am constantly learning that when the Spirit moves, you follow.